


Out of the Pan

by makoredeyes



Series: Turning of Hearts [1]
Category: Titanfall
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Ish?? - Freeform, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love, maybe?????
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 10:20:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14850929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makoredeyes/pseuds/makoredeyes
Summary: Kuben Blisk inadvertently offers a different perspective of himself when he attempts to recruit Jack Cooper. Jack has no idea how to handle this.  Another introspective slow-burn character study.





	Out of the Pan

**Author's Note:**

> EVERYONE needs to think Kieran for proof-reading this for me because he found some real bonehead mistakes I'd missed, and therefore greatly improved the reading experience for the rest of us as a result.  
> Thanks dude, you rock.

_Where was Briggs?! The world was literally falling apart around him, earth and stone in violent fiery upheaval, and though his commander's voice continued steady and clear in his helmet, “Just keep moving, we'll be there,” they, so far, were not. His heart thundered up in his chest, his vision swimming as he poured every ounce of his energy into his frantic, hopeless flight. His head felt thick and uneven, his mind struggling more and more to process what was happening as his ears started to ring and an ache at the base of his skull got harder and harder to ignore as Typhon imploded thousands of feet below. At last, there was a ship- a little carrier with its bay door wide open, and as Jack made one last desperate leap, he was broadsided by a melon-sized chunk of rock. He somehow had the time to cry out, pain lancing up his side, but then, everything went dark._

 

He awoke slowly to the oddly distinct scent of a very old-fashioned pomade, the aroma of wax and patchouli faint but jarringly familiar. Unbeckoned, memories he'd much rather forget flooded in. The smell of ozone and chemical smoke, the crackle of flames. _Cooper... I am unable to complete the mission. But you still can..._

BT...

_Take this SERE Kit..._

Jack's heart clenched. He had never imagined anyone, a Titan, no less, would grow on him as fast as BT had.

He rolled, crushing his face into the pillow to stifle a sob only to find that same smell to be even stronger. He gagged, recoiling. There was nothing overtly unpleasant about the aroma, but Jack found it unbearably repugnant for a reason he couldn't pinpoint.

Where was he? Where was BT? He couldn't think straight...couldn't remember, but there was definitely something _wrong_.

His mind raced, fumbling with thoughts and memories as he rolled onto his back again with a groan, his gaze drifting lazily up a long plastic tube dangling at his shoulder to a bag on a hook. It took far too long to realize there was an IV in his arm. His stomach flopped again. _Not good_.

What wasn't good?

 _It hurts_.

Why did everything hurt?

He swallowed dryly, the air and spit rasping down his throat like sand.

What had happened? His head was pounding. He thought he might vomit.

His head hurt, the throbbing of his pulse in his ears making it far too hard to focus. A fight... an Ion, and a very angry, spiteful woman...An explosion. The feeling of hopeless desperation. BT had been damaged enough to fall, disabled. _BT???_ Jack shook his head, trying to remember.

Where was BT?!

Something was wrong, wrong wrong. He knew what it was, he just couldn't remember. He dragged his eyes back up to the bag overhead. What the hell was that? He couldn't think. He tried to sit up, coughing when bile caught in his throat. He collapsed back down, staring up at a shadowy, unfamiliar ceiling. Where...? He clamped his eyes shut, trying to _think_ . He'd been training with Lastimosa, and they'd been attacked... crashed... a bad battle and...and... He cringed. BT. The mission...bits were coming back a little more clearly as his mind started to realign itself. They had sought to complete first Captain Lastimosa's mission, and then Major Anderson's...The _Ark_...

Jack blinked slowly, his face crumpling as realization dawned.

BT...

Memories flooded back faster now as the Pilot found the dingy little box in his mind where the Titan had stowed away those last awful moments. He unearthed a memory, or a thought; words he'd never heard spoken but were clear as day in his head: _If I am doomed not to survive, at least you will carry on._..

He didn't even consider where he was now, or how he got there. He felt himself topple in slow motion from the inside out. Pieces if him cracked off and fell away in little showers of broken glass until he was nothing but a sobbing, howling mess.

BT was gone. His presence had vanished without a trace from Jack's mind. Gone was the steady voice of reason, the steadfast presence like a warm hand on his shoulder. Gone was the unwavering trust and confidence, and the larger-than-life mind that had somehow completed him. BT was gone, and only a gaping hole where he'd been remained.

He eyed the IV line, already planning yank it out. He considered attempting to throttle himself with the tubing. Wherever his friend had gone, he needed to follow. He raised his arm shakily, and actually had his fist curled around the tube when a sudden voice startled him.

"Oi...You leave that righ' where Ah put it."

Jack jumped, dropping his arm and turning so fast his ears started to ring, staring wide-eyed at the imposing figure in the doorway of the tiny room he occupied. His eyes narrowed. Of all the people he would have gladly finished his days without seeing... Kuben Blisk strode across the short distance between the door and Jack in three long steps to plant one dinner-plate sized hand flat onto Jack's chest, effortlessly pushing him prone.

"Yeah. We've met before," He drawled, a devilish, triumphant smirk on his lips. "Didn't get ta see yer face but Ah know it's you."

Jack recoiled, hissing out an oath as he fought feebly against the mercenary's hand, clawing at his wrist with both hands, kicking and twisting against the pressure, all to no avail. Blisk was strong, and Jack found himself the weakest he'd ever been, weighed down by the pain and the shock and the exhaustion of what he'd just done, and all that he'd lost.

“Settle down!” Blisk barked. “Ah ain't gonna do nothin' ta ya but help, damn it!” He snatched his hand away with a snarl, grouchily eyeing the gouges Jack had managed to carve into his wrist.

Jack collapsed back into the bed, exhausted, and stared up at the Apex Predator sullenly.

“Why?” He croaked. He was examining the IV in his arm again. The shot of adrenaline had cleared his shock-addled mind enough to allow him to begin to wonder what the substance being fed into his body might be. “What is this?” He demanded, reaching for the tube again. Blisk delivered a sharp slap to the back of his hand, making Jack recoil with a yelp.

“Stop that! It's jus' saline and acetaminophen, Ah ain't druggin' ya.”

Jack quelled at this, but repeated, “Why?”

For some reason, the question made the strangest look cross Blisk's face. Already surly, the look of irritation and confusion twisted his weathered features into something almost grotesque. Jack blinked, surprised.

“Ya _want_ ta have died down there?” He countered, dodging the question.

“Yes,” Jack said quickly, and Blisk's face fell slack in surprise.

“Ya...” His brow furrowed, and he glanced aside, seeming to look through the bulkheads toward the front of the ship. “First time losin' a Titan, eh?” He said, much more quietly. Jack felt his eyes start to sting, and he gave the other man a tiny, nearly imperceptible nod as he fought back the tears he refused to show his enemy.

Blisk was looking him over, his expression pensive. Jack felt like that pale, cold gaze had turned far too knowing, and he cowed a little under it. Twice Blisk opened his mouth as if he was about to speak, but aborted. Finally he simply said, “Got a name, kid?”

Jack hesitated. Part of him wanted to lie. Part of him wanted to spit in the merc's face and tell him what he could shove where.

Most of him, however, had given up and he couldn't find himself to be bothered to do either.

“Jack Cooper.”

Blisk nodded, and turned away, reaching into a nearby locker and pulling out a bottle of pills and a water flask.

“Pull that thing out if ya want,” he said, setting down both items at Jack's bedside. “This stuff is bett'a anyway.”

There was something weirdly subdued about Blisk's mannerisms, and Jack heaved himself into an upright position to watch him cautiously. Blisk noticed after a moment and let out a little snort.

“Listen, Cooper,” he began, moving to the doorway as Jack did indeed pull the IV from his arm with a soft grunt. “Ah ain't gonna poison ya, or come in here an stab ya in th' back. Ah saw yer work, an' what ya did down there, an' Ah respect that.” He pulled another calling card from a pouch on his hip, and tossed it. It spun across the room in a tidy, well-practiced arc, and landed squarely in Jack's lap. Jack stared down at it blandly, not even bothering to pick it up. “Ah'm _hopin'_ ta recruit ya,” Blisk went on. “But if that don't fly, well Ah'm sure th' Militia will pay a pretty penny for their Little Hero. Either way, yer no good ta me dead, yeah? So rest easy on that.” Jack lifted his head again to give Blisk a surprised look, and Blisk smiled. Not the devilish grin this time, but friendly and disarming. Jack felt his stomach flip, uncomfortable. He said nothing, and after a pause, Blisk went on. “As fer th' rest...” He tipped his chin vaguely in the direction of the pills and water. “Th' pain will fade, as will th fuzzy brain. Thas' from th' Neural Link gettin' severed.” He stepped out of the room, but paused, looking back. “Hard ta say about th' heartache though.”

He turned away, finishing a little more firmly, “Ah'll be up in the cockpit with Red. Ain't nobody else here ta bother ya so rest up or whatever.”

With that, he vanished, the door sliding shut behind him and leaving Jack sitting stunned and alone in the dark.

 

 

Jack genuinely didn't know what to do, or what to make of his situation. He surmised that sometime after he'd lost consciousness as he tried to escape the collapsing planet of Typhon, that Blisk had rescued him. How, or why – the _truth_ why, not the non-answer Blisk had given him- he couldn't fathom.

Bitter anger boiled. If he'd just let him die, he'd be back with BT by now, he was certain. Not a half-prisoner, half-guest on his enemy's ship in god-knows-where Space. He still didn't trust Blisk, didn't believe that he was safe here, that Blisk intended to...what? Care for him? Help him recover and then merrily deliver him home again?

Yeah. Sure. He totally believed that.

He could not, however, conceive of a means of escape, at least for the time being, and he could only think that when Blisk finally turned on him, that maybe he'd be lucky enough to die comfortably.

He looked over at the bottle of pills on the bedside shelf. Maybe if he swallowed them all... He reached out, snatching the bottle up and opening it, only to discover that it was nearly empty, with only a few doses left at most, and certainly not enough to do more than give him a belly ache, at the worst. He groaned, and took a normal dose, chasing it with a greedy draw of water.

He knew immediately he'd made a mistake as his stomach rolled ominously. Too much had gone in too quickly into his over-stressed body and as he broke out into a hot, queasy sweat, he knew it was going to bounce no matter what he did. With a frustrated moan, he lurched to his feet, staggering to the door. He was mildly surprised to find it open for him, and as he lurched into the hallway, he started to heave.

“Lav!” He called, fighting down the bile, not sure if anyone would hear him, or care.

“Straight across!” Came Blisk's prompt reply, and Jack had to wonder if he'd been waiting for exactly this as he plowed through the doorway immediately across from him. The lavatory was barely bigger than a broom closet, and offered a blessedly linear shot to the toilet for Jack to empty his stomach into.

He vomited violently, the heaving diminishing into sobs, and as he sat back against the shower door, gasping, he slipped from consciousness, only to come around again on his own once more a few minutes later in order to vomit again.

He must have stayed in there like that for over a half-hour, but nobody came to bother him, or gloat...or whatever else someone as awful as Blisk might do, and for this, Jack was just a tiny bit grateful. When he'd finished coming apart, he stood slowly, washed his face and mouth in the tiny sink, and, swaying, shuffled out.

Standing in the hallway he realized just how small of a ship this really was. Immediately forward was the cockpit, and aft, a cargo hold that wasn't even big enough to carry a Titan. He froze where he stood, gazing up and down the table-length hallway in a daze, trying to comprehend this new information. He found himself staring through the gap between the pilot and copilot seats out the front viewport, and startled when the wedge-shaped head of a Stalker leaned out from the copilot's seat to look back at him.

“Hey, Kid,” the Stalker rumbled, his voice a deep, gravelly baritone that would have been terribly intimidating if not for the friendly warmth behind it. “You okay, there?”

Jack backed up a step. He'd never heard a Stalker speak but the friendly-sounding greeting didn't make the thing any less creepy.

“I'm Red,” it went on, seemingly oblivious to Jack's obvious discomfort, and reached out with a mechanical hand to wave him forward.

“My Legion,” Blisk added from the pilot's seat, finally looking back.

Jack's heart clenched into a ball and crawled up into his throat. He didn't know they could switch into smaller bodies. He didn't know they could sound so _human._ He wondered what it would have been like if he and BT had made it home...

“Hey...” Red half-stood, noticing as Jack's eyes welled up again, and promptly hit his head on a low support beam. “Oof!” He sat back down but beckoned to Jack again with a hand. “Seriously, are you alright? Cooper, right? We have liniment if that rock left a gnarly bruise.”

Jack's knees locked.

A few moments passed in silence as he failed to move, or say anything, Red watching him patiently, before Blisk finally glanced back again. He blinked at Jack, and, heaving a long sigh, stood slowly. He ducked down below the low entry into the cockpit and strode down the little hallway to stop just within arm's reach of Jack. He said nothing, staring down at Jack with that same piercing gaze, and then finally reached out, closing his hand around the shoulder on Jack's uninjured side, and pulled him forward. He side-stepped Jack and pushed him, firmly but surprisingly gently, up to the cockpit. There were a pair of jump seats behind the control seats, and he sat Jack down in the one behind Red. Jack let himself be maneuvered, sitting in silence and tipping his head down to stare at the battered flight suit where it covered his knees, trying to ignore the enormous man standing over him.

“Red get th' stuff,” Blisk said, voice low. The Legion-Turned-Stalker stood, shimmying past Blisk and Jack, and disappeared into the cargo hold at the back of the ship. “Get this thing off, Coop,” Blisk demanded, tugging on the sleeve of Jack's flight suit. Jack flinched, but didn't move otherwise, and Blisk sighed again. Red returned with a medkit dangling in one hand and a small plastic bottle in the other, but stopped short just shy of entering the cockpit.

“Listen,” Blisk said, and it was evident he was trying very hard to remain unperturbed by Jack's attitude. “You kin cooperate, or Ah kin do it for ya, which neither a us will enjoy, yeah?”

Jack lowered his head so far his chin pressed against his chest, his shoulders hunching, and Blisk let out an annoyed little grumble. He caught Jack by the shoulder again with one hand and was reaching for the the first of many buckles and straps securing his armor, when Jack flinched back and caught his wrist.

“Yeah alright,” he muttered unhappily. Blisk immediately stepped back as far as he could in the limited space, Red squeezing by back up into the cockpit as he did, to give him as much room as possible. He looked relieved.

Jack remained seated as long as he could as he methodically picked away the armor. His hands shook a little harder as each piece fell away into a haphazard pile around him, until finally he'd unzipped the suit down to his waist and shrugged out of the sleeves.

Jack had a brief moment of gratification at the shocked look on the mercenary's face as he revealed the Rifleman's uniform he was wearing.

“Field promoted,” he said by explanation. “You killed-” his throat closed, “-BT's proper Pilot, Captain Lastimosa, shortly after our ship crashed.” He slowly stripped away the top, and under-shirt to reveal dark purple and green bruising up his entire right side from the ribs up over his chest and shoulder. “He linked me to his Titan with his dying breath...” _No no no...do_ **_not_ ** _cry..._ He knotted his hands together in his lap to try and hide the shaking, but his whole body trembled with the force of trying to hold himself together. There was no hiding the pain, or the grief, and no containing it.

Blisk swore softly.

“Well no wond'r yer all fucked up,” He commented, and Jack couldn't help but look up, surprised. “Supposed ta get trainin' on how ta cope with a busted Link,” he pointed out. Jack blew out a long, shaking breath.

“Oh.”

Blisk said nothing else, instead taking the medkit and bottle from Red and stepping forward to crouch at Jack's side. He laid the kit out on the floor, pulling out a sterile cotton swab with forceps, and then dousing the swab generously with a dark, pungent-smelling liquid from the bottle.

“Arm up,” Blisk ordered quietly. “This stuff smells like shit but it works wonders...”

It did smell awful. Jack raised his arm obediently, blinking as it started to make his eyes burn as Blisk got closer with it. He twitched as Blisk began to dab at some of the hard-to-reach bruises. His body was tender, and the liquid felt shockingly cold on his too-hot and damaged skin.

“What is it?” Jack asked quietly, genuinely curious and ready for a distraction of any kind. Blisk shrugged.

“Dunno. Some ancient Chinese concoction. Can't pronounce, let alone read th' name.”

Already, the pain was fading where it'd first been applied, and Jack made a surprised sound. Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn't that.

“Yeah, 's what Ah said too,” Blisk said with a chuckle. “This'll be gone in jus' a few days, though. Shit's magic, and well worth smellin' weird for a few days.”

Jack couldn't resist chuckling back as Blisk re-soaked the swab and then handed it over to Jack to get the rest on his own.

“You're...different,” Jack observed.

“Hah! So you've noticed?!” Red crowed from up front. Jack's head snapped around, and he paused in his work to lean out and look back at the bot.

“Shaddup, Red,” Blisk growled.

“What do you mean?” Jack asked at the same time, and the Legion let out a little chuckle.

“That Big Bad Boogeyman thing is all an -ack!” Red cut off as Blisk stood with shocking speed, swiveling on his heel to slap open a panel on Red's chest, and now had a bundle of wires grasped in his fist. “No please, I'll stop!” Red whined, putting both hands up in surrender. Blisk looked genuinely irate, and gave the Legion a hard, stony glare before slowly releasing him and backing away to seat himself back in the pilot's seat. Red slowly lowered his arms, gingerly tapping the panel shut again. He said nothing more, but hunched up sullenly and was flickering his biolights at Blisk.

Jack stared, horrified. After a moment, Blisk noticed Jack's expression and huffed.

“Was jus' his vocalizer!” He argued. “Wasn't gonna fry his circuits or somethin'!”

“Has it ever occurred to you,” Red drawled, “That 'Mean and Violent' isn't really the best avenue for making friends?” Blisk's brow furrowed and he opened his mouth to respond but cut short when Jack interjected quickly,

“Please don't antagonize him!”

Blisk's mouth shut again with a click of teeth. Jack had finally finished soaking the massive boulder-bruise covering a third of his torso, and was making good use of what was left on the swab to treat several other more minor bangs and dents to his body, but was throwing wary glances back at Blisk every couple of seconds. To his surprise, the Apex Predator was giving him a rather sorry look.

“Here,” Blisk stuck his hand out as he saw Jack had finally finished with himself, gathering up the single piece of garbage as Jack handed it over, along with the kit and liniment, and took it all back into the single berth chamber where Jack would find it set out for easy access later.

“Don't worry,” Red said brightly once Blisk had vanished into the little room. “He's just being overly dramatic. I think he's trying to impress you.” Jack swallowed hard, unsure of how to respond to that.

Jack didn't remember dozing off. He woke up with a gasp and a jerk, accidentally kicking the back of Red's seat with the force of his startle, straightening up quickly from where he'd been slumped in the jump seat.

“Easy there,” Blisk said mildly, still seated in the pilot's seat. He glanced back at Jack, keen eyes taking quick stock of his condition. Satisfied, he looked forward again, letting Jack pull himself back together in peace.

Jack was horrified that he'd fallen asleep so easily within easy reach of one of the Frontier's most dangerous and hostile men. He swore softly.

“How long was I asleep..?” He asked, rubbing his aching face tiredly.

“Three hours!” Red replied merrily. “You slept through a jump, even. And Kuben's snoring.”

“Damn it, Red!” Blisk blustered, shooting the Legion a scowl.

“Okay, I lied, it wasn't that loud,” Red amended cheekily. Blisk huffed, crossing his arms irritably. Jack almost laughed.

“Do you just constantly take the piss out of him or is it because I'm here?” Jack heard himself asking. He immediately grimaced, mortified that he'd said that. Red laughed.

“He's _always_ like this!” Blisk groused.

“Yep. It's good fun. You should try it sometime,” Red said brightly. This time, Jack did laugh.

“I'll pass, thanks.”

Blisk threw him another look, his expression grateful. Red was still laughing, apparently delighted by Jack's response. Outside the viewport, the starfield appeared to shift as they turned, a dingy brown-gray planet coming into view.

“We'll be planetside in a little over an hour,” Blisk said, his tone serious once more. “Should go back an' get a little more sleep while ya can.”

He was exhausted, but the thought of sleeping in Blisk's bed, using his pillow again, made Jack's stomach cartwheel uncomfortably.

“I'm awake now,” he said, staying put. Thankfully, nobody argued the issue, and he hunkered back down, alternating between half-dozing and watching their approach through the viewport.

 

 

They were on the ground before Jack thought to ask where they were. Somewhere in the last six hours, he'd accidentally come to trust the mercenary and his unexpectedly outgoing Titan. Weirdly enough, this revelation was more embarrassing for Jack than alarming.

“Unless Ah know yer gonna stay, Ah can't tell ya that,” Blisk said as he lead Jack from the cracked and weedy landing pad to line of vehicles. Ahead lay a low skyline of buildings overcast by a ghastly haze and beige, murky clouds. Jack nodded.

“Shoulda known better,” he conceded. Blisk shrugged.

They drew to a stop beside a tiny, absolutely _ancient_ pickup truck. Rusted, sagging and battered, it was such a relic that it still wore rubber tires, and smelled of dirt and old petroleum oil. It had at one time been blue but the paint was now nearly white from oxidization. Jack watched in awe as Blisk produced an equally old-fashioned nickel key to unlock the passenger side door.

“IMC bouncing their checks?” Jack asked incredulously as Blisk, in another weird display of good manners, opened the door for him. Blisk let out a growl, circling around and climbing in the driver's side.

“Red found it,” he said with a huff. “Fucking loves this thing.”

“Nineteen seventy-four Datsun!” Red announced proudly as he threw Blisk's single duffle and Jack's helmet into the back before clambering in. Jack's jaw dropped.

“ _Nineteen?!”_

The antique combustion engine whirred and groaned as Blisk cranked the ignition, but it finally kicked over with a cough and a roar.

“Yep, three hundred an' fifty years old,” Blisk moaned miserably. Jack stared agog as Blisk wrestled the ancient machine into drive.

“I... okay, that's impressive.” Jack said at last. Blisk snorted.

“Yeah. We'll call it impressive.”

 

 

Jack stayed squished up against the truck's door in an attempt to keep clear of Blisk's elbow and broad shoulders in the cramped little cab, but got elbowed twice as the merc shifted gears anyway. He apologized each time.

They crossed through a threadbare little residential district, before descending into an underground garage. As they all unloaded and crossed the dimly lit lot to a lift, Jack became increasingly nervous. He didn't know where they were, or where they were going, and he suddenly remembered again exactly who he was following into the unknown.

The lift was as tight and worn out as every other space Blisk seemed to occupy, and Jack began to feel decidedly claustrophobic on the short ride up.

“Where are we going,” he said at last, tense. For a moment, Blisk didn't answer as they stepped into a long corridor. He led them a ways down and stopped at one of several doors.

“My old flat,” he grunted at last. Jack blinked rapidly as Blisk palmed the door open.

“This is where you live?” He blurted.

“Sometimes.”

It had obviously been a while. The apartment was somewhat spacious at least, and Jack heaved a sigh of relief, but a layer of dust over everything suggested it had been a long time since it was regularly occupied. It was sparsely furnished, the open living area butting up against a kitchenette with only a sofa, currently covered with a sheet, and a small table with only two chairs occupying the space. There were no visible personal effects anywhere. Jack found himself standing just inside the threshold, feeling oddly desolate at the sight. He startled when Red nudged in behind him, dropping Blisk's bag just inside the doorway.

“Home sweet home,” The Legion said dryly. He had Jack's helmet in his hands and was staring down at it, barely sparing either man a glance. Blisk pulled the sheet off the couch, careful not to disturb the coating of dust covering it, and then moved into the adjacent room. There was a thud and a click and the lights came up.

“There...” Blisk said as he came back out. “Red kin ya go restock for us?”

The Legion looked up from where he'd been contemplating the helmet as if he'd forgotten where he was.

“Oh sure...” He set the helmet on the table, and Blisk tilted his head, eyeing the Legion thoughtfully, but said nothing. Jack had finally inched further inside, and while he watched the silent exchange between Titan and Pilot, he didn't know what to think of it and so put it out of his mind. Blisk turned away as Red made his exit, and gave Jack a somewhat crooked smile.

“It ain't much...but there's hot water...An' it don't run out.”

Despite himself, Jack grinned.

 

 

Jack was still in the shower when Red returned with a couple of bags of groceries. He'd been in there damn near an hour, but Blisk wasn't about to interrupt the Pilot...ish?... He wasn't about to interrupt him. Every once in a while, a strained sound escaped over the sound of running water, and he knew perfectly well how important a good come apart in peace was.

He really did hope he could recruit the kid. Untrained and rough though he was, there was proven potential, and if he'd given Blisk that much trouble his first day on the job, he definitely wanted Cooper on his side. Not to mention... he _liked_ him. Even in his darkest hours, there was strength of will and character in Cooper that he didn't see often, and he respected that. He admired that dogged determination and dedication to the mission. He was a rare gem, and Blisk wasn't going to let value like that slip away if he could help it.

Playing the role of the compassionate wasn't one Blisk did often, but he knew how to read a man. Most of the men and women who worked for his outfit had been drawn to his savage reputation. It was refreshing to have to try and woo an ally.

“Have you seen this?” Red's voice interrupted his musings as the Legion crossed the main room to sit beside Blisk on the couch. He had Jack's helmet again.

Blisk had been far too busy worrying about getting them home to have paid more than a second glance to the Militia gear, but now as Red held it up, it was clear something was _off._

The visor was flickering, blinking on and off rapidly. His eyes widened as he watched the pattern repeat several times. He sat up straighter.

“D'ya think...?”

Red nodded.

“I'm positive.”

Blisk blew out a hard breath, an excited smile crawling across his features.

“Go downstairs an' get on it,” he said quickly, lowering his voice. “An' don't say a thing about it, yeah?” This might be exactly what he needed.

Red nodded, already heading out again, the flickering helmet in hand.

“Roger that, Boss.”

  


“You cook?”

Blisk looked up from his station at the stove, giving Jack a flat look.

“Ah _eat_ , don't I?” He snarked, smirking a little when Jack blushed faintly in embarrassment. He spent a few more minutes on his task, letting the other Pilot stand there awkwardly in nothing but a towel and dripping hair as he finished before shutting off the heat and setting the pan aside. He turned, giving Jack a proper once-over. Jack drew back shyly under the scrutiny.

“I uh...d-don't have anything...” Jack stammered softly, his embarrassment growing by the second.

Blisk stared for a moment longer, taking note of how the massive bruises were turning a awful shade of greenish yellow as they healed, but then nodded.

“Yeah, come on...”

Jack trailed after Blisk, his fingers bunched into the towel knotted around his waist, feeling horribly vulnerable and self conscious despite himself. He wasn't typically body-shy, but the circumstances were just too weird already for him to be able to have a normal reaction to anything.

He followed the other man into the apartment's single bedroom, hanging back at the door as Blisk went to his one dresser and started pulling out clothes and tossing them onto the bed one item at a time into a little pile.

“Hang on,” he ordered as he finished, crossing back over to brush past Jack as he left the room, only to return again with the same bottle of liniment and some more cotton. “Do me a favor an' let this dry first, yeah? It stains.” He stuffed it into Jack's hands and and left him standing there in the middle of the bedroom without further comment, shutting the door behind him.

For a moment, Jack didn't move. Blisk's habit of being simultaneously remarkably considerate and brusque was unnerving. Heaving a sigh, he finally just sat where he’d been standing, mindful of keeping the liquid away from anything it might stain, and took his time treating his bruises. It only took a few minutes before it had dried and, blushing again in embarrassment, Jack dressed himself in Blisk's clothes.

Nothing fit, of course. Jack wasn't too proud to admit he was on the short side, and though he was well-toned in lean muscle, he'd never been able to bulk up the way some guys did. His unlikely rescuer, on the other hand, towered over Jack, and easily had at least fifty pounds on him. He swam in everything.

Still. Oversized clothes were far better than no clothes, and as awkward as he felt, he was still grateful for the loan.

 

At length, he emerged, having pulled himself back together as best as he could, to find Blisk seated at the table. Though he had chosen to start eating without Jack, there was a bowl at the other seat waiting for him.

The merc didn't look up until Jack seated himself, but when he did, his eyes grew wide for a heartbeat. He blinked hard, and then ducked his head back down to focus on his food.

“That don't fit ya at all...” He observed with a soft snort. Jack shrugged it off.

“Better than nothing, though.” He paused, swallowing back the sudden block in his throat. “Thank you...” He had his first bite, sitting back in surprise. Blisk knew what he was doing. “For everything,” he added. Blisk looked back up then, finally meeting his gaze. He wore an odd, indiscernible expression that made Jack vaguely uncomfortable, and when he replied, his voice had gone notably soft.

“Yer welcome, kid.”

 

 

They hadn't spoken in hours. Red had vanished, and Blisk had largely remained seated at the table, although at some point he produced not one, but two datapads, and he steadily flicked through pages of information on one as he tapped away taking detailed notes on the other. When Jack had, out of boredom, asked him about it, Blisk had simply told him it was “work” and Jack decided he didn't actually want to know.

Left to himself, Jack had parked himself on the couch where he off and on napped and contemplated his situation.

Blisk had openly declared he intended to recruit Jack. It was for this reason that all the little favors, all the considerations, worried him. Was he gradually accruing debt to the mercenary? He certainly thought so, but what did Blisk believe? Was the head of the Apex Predators naturally a caring and considerate person, or was he deliberately trying to lure Jack in?

Was it _working_?

More than once, Jack found himself musing that Blisk seemed like a _nice enough guy_ , guiltily catching himself imagining what life as a mercenary might be like. The fact that he was even half-way considering the potential to defect from the Militia made him deeply uncomfortable.

He was painfully aware of his vulnerability. He had no friends, no family...nothing to go back to and no one to miss him if he didn't. Blisk's assertion that the Militia would pay for his safe return seemed too far-fetched to be realistic. Unless Commander Briggs had survived, there wasn't likely anyone in a position to advocate his rescue who even knew he existed, let alone what he and BT had done.

 _BT..._ It had been at least twelve hours since... _that_...but his head still ached, and sometimes his thoughts felt disjointed and scattered. There was, Blisk had told him, literally a gap in his mind. Neurons had been scattered out of place or damaged by the sudden severance of his Link with BT, that the pain resulted from his body fumbling to reorganize the mess that had been made.

He'd offered to train Jack. Offered him a new Titan, and even promised to share the backup programming he'd developed for Red, whom he'd been successfully linked to for just over two years. All as 'perks of the job' as he'd called it.

It was terribly tempting. It made him feel more than a little sick.

 

As the light outside faded, and the apartment grew dark, Jack finally laid himself out on the couch, intending to sleep. He watched through half-lidded eyes as Blisk glanced his way as he did, then immediately stood. The merc padded out of the room with surprisingly quiet footsteps, but returned a few minutes later. Jack watched him approach but didn't move, until Blisk took the folded bundle in his hands and opened it into a large blanket. With a flick of his wrists, he had it billowed out to drape cleanly over Jack, as well as a good portion of the couch.

It was delightfully soft, and smelt cleanly laundered. Jack gathered it up around him with a little shudder and, muttering his gratitude, buried himself in it. He listened as Blisk let out a satisfied sort of grunt and walked away, slapping the lights off as he went.

He didn't sleep right away, his mind whirling faster than ever as he listened to the shower run, and the muted sounds of the floors shifting and creaking with Blisk's movements. Sometime late in the night, Red returned, the muted amber glow of his optic catching against the shine of Jack's eyes, and the Legion flickered silently at him in greeting before slipping into the bedroom. Jack could see the soft blue-white glow emanating from Blisk's datapad and realized nobody was sleeping.

Sometime in the darkest hours of the morning, Jack eventually slipped into slumber as he wondered what it was Blisk could be plotting.

 

 

A week passed. Blisk came and went from time to time. Red vanished daily only to return late at night to recharge. Jack thought he might be wearing a hole into 'his' end of Blisk's couch.

 

It took days for the awkward, uncomfortably stretching silences to fade away. Jack had finally relaxed and accepted that, for the time being, Blisk and Red were his sole companions, and now welcomed their company as such. He eventually got used to wearing Blisk's clothes.

Blisk proved to be far more talkative than he seemed initially, and when he wasn't telling one of his great number of outlandishly violent and adventurous stories, he had taken to giving Jack impromptu lessons any time piloting Titans became the topic of discussion. He was, Jack realized, a wealth of knowledge and experience, and a natural teacher.

 

Every day, Blisk offered a job, and every day, Jack passively declined. The lessons came anyway.

“This one's free,” he would say with that same disarming and almost kindly smile. Jack, unable to help himself, ravenously took it all in.

 

 

On the ninth morning, he awoke to the muffled sounds of Blisk and Red bickering.

“Stop sayin' that, damn it!” Blisk's temper was a quick, fiery one, and his voice raised loud enough for Jack to hear him easily even with the sound-dampening door shut.

“You can keep denying it all you want, Kuben, but it's only going to circle back and bite you in the ass. _Again._ ”

“It ain't what ya think, Red!”

“Bullshit,” the Legion rumbled. “I wouldn't have brought it up if I was uncertain. You know that.” The door slid open suddenly, Blisk stalking out. He was visibly rattled, his expression twisted up in frustration and...grief? Jack stayed put with his eyes slitted nearly shut, feigning sleep as he watched the exchange. “You're going to get your heart broken,” Red pressed on, his vocalizer turned down low into a hissing whisper as he continued to pester Blisk. “And this time, I'm not going to feel sorry for you!”

“Buzz off,” Blisk growled. “Ah gotta cook us breakfast, an _you_ got a job ta do.”

Jack's mind raced as he tried to process what he was hearing.

“I'm almost done with that, by the way,” Red said, seemingly letting their previous topic of contention drop. “By this time tomorrow at the extreme latest, the transfer will be complete.  It’ll probably be later today.”

Again, a mess of emotions stampeded across the man's face.

“...Good.”

“Good? Are you sure? I can put it off, if you'd like.”

“Naw... no...jus... the sooner, th' better.” Jack shut his eyes fully as Red turned his way.

“Alright,” he was saying as he headed for the door. “Maybe today, you'll get lucky, then.”

There was a long, unhappy pause from the kitchen.

“Yeah...maybe...”

 

Jack waited several minutes before he 'woke up,' sitting up slowly and opening his eyes once more. Blisk stood at the counter with his back turned to Jack, both hands braced on the edge and his head hung low.

“Kuben?”

Even as Blisk spun around to give Jack a startled look, Jack felt his own heart leap and his face grow hot. It was the first time he'd addressed Blisk by his first name...or really, by name at all save for once or twice, but it had just come tumbling out without permission. It didn't help that Blisk looked at least as surprised as he was by the slip. Now the other man was staring at him with wide eyes looking vulnerable and almost alarmed, and Jack could only stare back, somewhat mortified by the overly familiar address. Nothing improved as Jack went on to ask, “Are you alright?”

He watched Blisk's expression seem to flicker and then close off, and realized how many times he'd seen that carefully composed mask of neutrality. _He's acting..._

 _“_ Yeah. Jus' lost in thought. Plannin' th' next job an all,” he said, his tone too light, the information too casually vague. Jack's eyes narrowed, and he chewed his lip thoughtfully as Blisk turned away, suddenly almost frantically busy with cooking breakfast.

 

Jack stood slowly, and shuffled his way to his seat at the table, watching the mercenary from a closer vantage point. He could tell that Blisk felt his eyes on him. He'd quickly learned the other man's expressive body language, the rise or fall of Blisk's shoulders alone telling far more than his words ever did. Jack continued to watch Blisk in silence, nonetheless, enjoying the power of having him off balance for once.

“Aren't you going to offer me a job?” He asked coolly after several long minutes of watching Blisk fumble and fuss. Blisk's hands stopped moving, and he straightened up from his slightly hunched posture, turning to look back at Jack. Jack felt a pang of disappointment when Blisk didn't bluster at him with denials or a cover story. Instead, he turned slowly to fully face Jack, looking tired, and a little bit sad.

“Ah figure yer probably more than ready ta get back home, eh?” He said. He spoke quietly, which in itself wasn't all that unusual, but there was a hint of muted resignation that immediately worried Jack. Blisk was watching him, waiting for an answer, and at first, Jack couldn't find his voice, only nodding instead.

“Yeah,” he said at last. “You're....really going to let me go?”

Blisk hesitated.

“Well, Ah sure's hell ain't gonna try an' make ya a slave or somethin',” he muttered, then let out a dry, humorless laugh as he heard himself. “Ah don't operate like _that_ ,” he clarified. He stared down at his own hands, silent for another long stretch. The food in the pan behind him was starting to smell a little overcooked but he ignored it. “Ah've offered ya everythin' Ah can,” he went on. “Yer dedication ta yer terrorist pals is...” his lip curled in distaste, “...revolting, but at th' same time...” He canted his head to one side, giving Jack an alarmingly earnest look of admiration. “Ah respect loyalty. It's a valuable trait too many men lack.” Behind him, the pan started to smoke suddenly. Blisk hissed in frustration, turning and yanking it off the heat almost violently, and dumped the whole thing into the sink. It hissed and popped angrily as he threw on the tap, filling the little space with a billow of steam. Jack grimaced, leaning back in his seat in alarm. Giving up entirely, Blisk stepped away from the stove, crossing the little kitchenette to pass Jack as he headed straight for the door. He snatched up a jacket that had been dumped over the back of the couch as he went, pulling it on.

“Ah'm gonna go get somethin,” he mumbled, and there were his shoulders speaking for him again as they hitched up around his ears in a disgruntled, guarded hunch. A moment later, he was through the door and vanishing down the hallway, leaving Jack behind yet again in stunned silence.

 

Surprisingly, Red returned before Blisk did, sometime in the early afternoon. He carried a smallish, standard-issue all-purpose aluminum storage box in both hands, setting it down on the counter carefully before greeting Jack brightly as usual.

Jack liked Red. He had no idea how such a friendly, outgoing personality had ended up with the likes of Blisk, but the Legion seemed entirely kind-hearted, and often openly challenged Blisk's morals and actions, often with hilarious results. It was a refreshing perspective of the mercenary.

“Hey Red,” Jack said, offering the bot a genuine, if not somewhat tired smile. He'd cleaned up the mess in the sink, but was then left to himself for too long, the Pilot alternating between battling his demons, and trying to puzzle out the jumbled pieces of insight Blisk had given him that morning.

“Where's Kuben?” Red asked. This surprised Jack. He usually knew.

“I don't know... He... burnt breakfast and left,” Jack said, frowning.

“He _burnt_...?” Red flickered, his lights dimming as he circled the table to seat himself across from Jack. “What happened?”

Jack leaned back, eyeing the Legion.

“What makes you think something happened?” He asked cautiously. Red actually produced a very convincing sound of a snort.

“I don't _think_ anything. I know,” he said bluntly. “Kuben is very careful, very deliberate in all that he does, even, no, _especially_ cooking. That he let something _burn_ suggests a catastrophic distraction.”

Jack grimaced, ducking his head down tellingly.

“He... didn't offer me a job like he has every morning. I called him out on it. Said he's going to let me go home.”

Red flickered at him again.

“Oh. I see. That's unfortunate. I like you.” Jack smiled thinly, and was about to return the sentiment when the Legion went on. “ _Kuben_ likes you _._ You've been good for him, I think.”

Jack had no idea how to respond to that. Luckily, he didn't have to. Mere seconds before the door opened, Red stood and took several long steps away from the table into the kitchen, looking for all the world as if he'd just set down the box he'd brought a split second before Blisk returned. Jack frowned.

“There you are,” Red said. Blisk didn't reply. His steely, guarded gaze fell on the object on the counter, and he moved swiftly through the flat to examine it. He lifted the lid, glancing in, and then shut it again quickly.

Jack thought he looked a little queasy.

“Ah made a few calls,” Blisk said. “We're expectin' a secure transfer tomorrow mornin'. Once that shows, Ah'll fly ya out ta yer extraction point.”

Jack's jaw dropped, and even Red seemed to straighten up in surprise.

“Just like that?” The Legion asked. Blisk fixed the bot a dark look and said nothing.

“Oh...” Why did Jack suddenly feel disappointed? He stole a glance at Red, who pointedly looked away. “That's...good news.” His own voice sounded hollow in his ears, and he cringed. He stood, taking half a step towards the Apex Predator, feeling like he should show some sort of gratitude. Shake his hand or something, but he'd gone numb.

“Sit back down Ah ain't finished,” Blisk said. He hoisted up the box at his side, and carried it back over to his seat at the table, across from Jack as he quickly sat again. “Ya got Red ta thank for this,” he added, and his downright hushed tone of voice was making Jack increasingly concerned. “He noticed...an' spent th' last week workin' on it for ya.”

“Under Kuben's direction,” Red interjected, earning himself another dirty look for his trouble.

Jack was nearly holding his breath as his eyes darted between Blisk's pinched expression and the box resting between his hands. Without further preamble, Blisk slowly shoved the box across the table to Jack. Jack stared at it, understanding that whatever was inside was the result of tremendous effort on Red's part, and seemed to mean a great deal to Blisk. He swallowed down a gulp of air, glancing back up across the table, only to find Blisk's piercing blue gaze pinned on him, and he yanked his own eyes back down, and gingerly lifted open the lid.

There was no way he could have ever been prepared for what he found inside, even if they'd properly warned him.

They'd somehow gotten ahold of a Militia Vanguard Datacore, the aquamarine lens glowing softly with the telling sign of an active AI operating within. He reached in with shaking hands, almost afraid to hope as he lifted it out, and turned it over to check the serial number. Whatever had been originally stamped into the ID plate had been scratched out with an engraver, and a new number had been hand-written in in the narrow margin above it.

_BT-7274_

Jack's hand's shook so hard he nearly dropped it, and he set it safely back into the box quickly as he sucked in a deep, shuddering breath. He held it, trying valiantly to hold everything in, before the last of his restraint shattered, and he burst into violent, howling sobs.

Red actually recoiled a little in surprise, but Blisk sat rigid and unmoving as he watched Jack come apart, his face kept carefully placid. His eyes, however, were haunted.

Jack saw none of this. He had his face buried in his hands as he continued to genuinely cry his eyes out. Even if he had looked up he would have never been able to see clearly through the gushing tears. All of fifteen minutes passed before the waterworks slowed, Red disappearing briefly to return with a damp towel for the Pilot. Jack hiccuped as he cleaned off his face, and finally turned a watery look of astonishment over at Blisk.

“Is he really...?” He was too scared he'd guessed wrong to even finish the question. His eyes welled up all over again as Blisk nodded, but he managed to avoid another total breakdown.

“Yeah,” Blisk said, barely audible. “Backed himself up in yer helmet. Was makin' th' visor flicker ta get our attention. Red noticed th' night we arrived an' got straight ta work extractin' him.” He stood, unable to bear to watch Jack's breakdown any longer. “Clever little shit, that one. Hang ont'a him.” He made to leave, passing Jack as he headed for the bedroom, but the Militia Pilot leapt to his feet suddenly.

Before he could even realize what he was doing, let alone question _why_ , Jack had all but jumped on Blisk, throwing his arms around him and yanking him into an embrace, squeezing hard enough to make his shoulders shake with the force of it.

“ _Thank you_ ,” Jack breathed, crushing his face into Blisk's chest and soaking a pair of wet spots through his shirt in the process. “Thank you so much...!”

Blisk froze where Jack had stopped him, a faint shudder cracking down the merc's spine from head to toe as Jack pressed in against him. He kept his hands up and away from the other Pilot, swallowing dryly as he waited for Jack to retreat.

When Jack finally pulled back, Blisk couldn't quite school his face back into neutrality quick enough for Jack to miss the look of the conflict in his eyes, but he was still preoccupied with what Blisk had given him.

“Name your price,” Jack said, suddenly serious as he stared up at the bigger man with wet, red-rimmed eyes. “Anything.” He lifted his chin courageously.

Something bitter and heartbroken flickered across the mercenary's face, and Jack's confidence faltered for a split second before Blisk literally shook his head to clear the expression away.

“Nothin',” Blisk whispered, taking a long step back. “Th' price's nothin'... this one's free.”

Jack's jaw dropped, and Blisk took the opportunity to turn away. He hurried across the room to his bedroom, and vanished inside.

 

 

They didn't see Blisk again until late into the next morning.

Red had eventually gone and gotten food for Jack from... somewhere. It didn't matter. He'd eventually calmed down enough to trust himself with BT's Datacore, and hadn't let go of it since. He ate with it tucked against his heart in his left arm, and that night, he slept in the exact same arrangement.

At one point late in the evening, Red had slipped into the bedroom, but came back out only minutes later. He said nothing about whatever had transpired inside, but Jack thought the bot looked notably downtrodden.

He had lain awake for far too long, mulling over Red's words and Blisk's actions in confusion. It was clear Blisk didn't want to see him go, but Jack simply couldn't understand why.

 

By the time morning came, he had almost convinced himself to change his mind. A weird, detached sense of guilt haunted him. Blisk and Red had done so much for him, opening their home to him and caring for him during his darkest hours and then...as if they hadn't already been gracious enough, they'd managed to resurrect the singularly most precious thing Jack had ever had in his life, and brought BT back to him.

The cynical part of him wondered if that had been the plan all along, to guilt him into defecting. The part of him that remembered the stricken look in Blisk's eyes before he'd fled suggested otherwise.

It didn't matter. In a few hours, he'd be heading home and he wouldn't have to worry about second-guessing himself any longer.

He was still chasing himself in circles, trying to rationalize both decisions until he'd run a groove in his mind so deep he could barely see out of it, when Blisk finally emerged.

He looked like shit.

Jack had come to realize he probably knew the mercenary better than many, but it didn't take any special experience to see that he'd clearly not slept a minute. Despite this, he moved with purpose straight to where Jack was seated on the couch.

“Ready ta get goin?” He croaked, and they both winced at the awful sound of his voice. Jack nodded, standing immediately. “Good.” Blisk’s voice firmed up with his expression as the mask descended once again. “Lessgo.”

Just like that, he turned and headed out, Jack stumbling after him in his hurry, clutching BT's Datacore over his heart as he jogged to catch up.

 

Down the lift they went, and through the creepy, echoing underground garage, Red trailing behind them like an afterthought, Jack's helmet and sole possession worth keeping tucked under one arm. The Datsun started up with considerably less resistance this time, its combustion engine happier under the regular use. They drove in silence through the blocks of residential buildings, and out across the tarmac to Blisk's little shuttle. Not a word was said as they all boarded, and the Pilot and Titan team went through the preflight and departure procedures, the pair working in perfect synchronization without needing a single word between them. Jack lingered in the hallway uncertainly, and only took his seat behind Red as they lurched into the air, sitting down quickly to avoid losing his balance.

 

They flew for just past an hour, the silence stretching uncomfortably as they crossed a long strip of desert, the sand and dust giving way to salt flats and then finally a deep patch of volcanic rock, the surface of which was porous, but pancake flat and as suitable for landing as any tarmac pad.

As they settled down, Blisk checked the time and only then did he finally speak.

“Fifteen minutes early. C'mon.” He picked up Jack's helmet, and turned it over in his hands until he found a small, coin-sized device clinging to the back side. He pinched it between his thumb and forefinger, and wrenched the magnetic jammer off of with a soft grunt and, without further warning, gently pushed it down over Jack's head. The radio crackled for a moment, and then Briggs's voice came through.

_“-per. Cooper, do you copy? Cooper.”_

Jack glanced sharply up at Blisk, but all the merc did was shrug as he lead Jack out into the sunlight.

“I'm here,” Jack said softly, finally answering his commander's hails.

“ _Jack! Oh my god! What's happened?! Are you alr-_ ”

“I'm just fine, Commander,” Jack said quickly. “Really,” he added.

“ _We're ten minutes out, hang in there!_ ”

“We have ten minutes,” Jack informed Blisk.

Blisk nodded with a heavy sigh.

“Good,” he said softly, still nodding to himself. “Thas' good. They're actually comin'.” He shifted from one foot to the other, eyes fixed on Jack and piercing as ever, though there was no way he could possibly see Jack's face through the visor. He hesitated a moment, then reached out to clap a hand over Jack's shoulder. The squeeze he gave him was firm, but decidedly affectionate. “Take care, Jack.” With that, he turned on his heel, and marched back up the ramp into the cargo bay of his ship. Jack hurriedly struggled back out of the helmet one-handed, the other still clutching BT.

“Wait! You're leaving?!”

Blisk turned back at the top of the ramp.

“Yeah. Don't think they'll let me go easy jus' cuz Ah handed ya over, do ya?” The door began to close between them, and he hunched up his shoulders and turned away. In minutes, the ship had wound up again and was airborne, and Jack was once again left standing in shock.

 

He was still frozen where he stood when the Militia _Widow_ transport appeared on the horizon, and didn't budge until long after it had landed, the bay door opening a moment before his commander bounded out. Sarah Briggs ran full-tilt at Jack, throwing her arms around him and hugging him tight in relief. He could barely hear her as she clamored at him, asking him if he was alright, what had happened, what Blisk had done to him. Then she'd noticed the Datacore, and the excited relief reignited all over again. Jack didn't say how he'd gotten it when she neglected to ask. The calling card in his pocket burned like hot lead, but he put it out of his mind as Briggs led him back to the ship. He was just glad to be going home.

  
  


“He would have stayed,” Red said, only breaking the silence once they were well clear of the extraction point. “If you'd asked him.”

“That Vanguard wouldn't a had it,” Blisk groaned. “An' he'll follow that guy straight inta hell if he asks him. It jus' ain't possible ta keep those two together _and_ with us.”

“You didn't have to give him back,” Red observed. “Why'd you do that?” Blisk leaned back in his seat, covering his face with both hands.

“You saw his face...” Blisk said, as if that was all the explanation he needed. Red nodded. He'd never before seen a display of combined grief and joy as powerful as what Jack had shown them, and he genuinely doubted Blisk had either.

“Was it worth it?” He asked at last.

Blisk fell into a moody, pensive silence as he contemplated this. They were nearly home before he responded.

“Yeah... _yeah.”_

 

 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, that's it. X) Sorry not sorry.
> 
> This was one of those fun bits of writing where I was not driving for any of it - instead it all just came barfing out nearly in a single sitting. I've enjoyed writing for Blisk on the side and in RP, and am happy to finally get to test-drive this image of the character I have in my head.  
> Lucky for Jack the only character I enjoy tormenting more than him is good ole Kubie here. Sorry, bud. XD


End file.
